The Right Man
by Soubrettina
Summary: How did the diplomatically vestigial thirteenth prince of the Southern Isles end up the sole delegate at such an important event as a coronation? Well... by Hans-like means, that's how. With a warning for a king who thinks he's funny and a queen with no idea what she's starting.


King Magnus was taking tea with Queen Lene when the door opened with an impudent clatter.

"I say, Hans, kindly don't burst in here! If you must burst, please do it in an appropriate place."

"I _did_ try to see you in an appropriate place. I waited outside the study for two hours."

"Yes, I heard someone pacing up and down, I thought you might still be there."

"But you didn't open the door!"

"No, I heard someone pacing up and down and I thought you might still be there."

"Well, I'm here now and I want to speak to you. Well, heaven knows, _that's_ not true, but I have things to say to you."

Lene, bless her, offered him a seat, which he didn't want. She offered him tea, which he didn't want either. Seeing that the lad's hands were clenching into fists, Magnus interceded before she moved onto the pastries.

"Hans, I assume you want something because you usually do, but what's the matter now?"

"It's concerning the Ynysland expedition, Magnus. You're going to have to send someone else."

"What, can't you go?"

"I think you're going to find you need me here."

"I really doubt that."

"No, I think you are."

"Hans, you've gone to Ynysland every summer for the past four years. What on earth makes you think I'm going to need you here? When have you ever been needed here? Anyway, I thought you liked going up there with the navy, and reacquainting yourself with the walruses."

"Very funny."

"Nevertheless, I don't think you can refuse my orders to go because you've gone off it."

"There's no need for me to patrol Ynysland. It's naval exercise, not a diplomatic one."

"Hans, there isn't really a _need_ for you to be anywhere. Diplomatically, you're somewhat vestigial. It's good for you to actually do something in the navy. Makes you look useful."

Hans went for a rejoinder to this, then gave a long-suffering sigh, and pulled a chair out.

"Well, allow me to _be_ usefuller. Excuse me, Lene. Thank you. Magnus, it's about this new queen, in Arendelle."

"What, little Queen Elsa? Well, I suppose not so little any more, is she?"

"What on earth gives you the impression she's little?"

Lene smiled and put down her teacup.

"We went up there on our wedding-journey, Hans, we met the old King and Queen, and little Elsa. What a beautiful child she was, darling!"

"Quite, my pet. I wonder why it's taken them so long to crown her. Three years. I mean, of course she's turning twenty-one, but if you can put a crown on a woman of twenty-one you can put one on a girl of eighteen, the regent can still keep her little hands off the reins of the state until the given time."

"Why was the delay?"

"Well, the Regent claims it's the terms of the old king's will and that she was in deep mourning- so that's obviously not the reason." Magnus pushed his plate out of the way. "There's some extraordinary rumours going about! The reformers on my council says she's being hidden because she's mentally defective, but they always say that. The counter-reformers say there's a reformist plot against her- but they always say _that_."

"I heard something different," Lene said, sounding unexpectedly teary, "that she caught consumption twelve years ago and the castle went into pre-emptive mourning, that she's been in a latent stage all this time, that they locked her away to keep it from spreading but now she's dying and will open up the castle for one day so that she can be seen to die a queen." Quite a long speech for Lene, especially with the tragic image an ivory-skinned, bright-eyed little blonde girl floating around in her head. "But of course it's only a rumour."

"Is it _true_?" Magnus asked.

"Oh, yes."

"_So_! The Queen of Arendelle _is_ a consumptive!"

"Is she?"

"You just said she was."

"No I didn't."

"Yes you did! You said you'd heard this rumour, I said was it true, you said yes!"

"I said, yes it was true that it a rumour."

"You said you'd heard it was true."

"No, I said that it was true that I'd heard it was true-"

"I'm sorry to cut into this important discussion," Hans said, "but do you _believe_ it?"

"Well I believe that I heard it... Oh, about the queen being ill..." Magnus considered it... "hm... _no_."

"Is it impossible?'

"Mm, no... but it's never been officially denied. First rule of politics, never believe anything until it's been officially denied."

"Well, I'll bear that in mind, when I meet her."

"You, Hans, when are you going to meet her?"

"When I go to the coronation. There is a delegation going, I trust?"

"Of course, but you're not a part of it. You're going to be in Ynysland, aren't you?"

"You haven't thought, then, that going to Arandelle might be a more useful way for me to spend July?"

"No, Hans, I haven't. They're having Erik and Viktor and Kristina. Everyone _likes_ them."

"Yes, I've noticed!"

"I mean, I can't actually stop you going, but..."

"You know, in light of what we may or may not have established about Queen Elsa, are you sure about sending Kristina to be breathed over by her? Is that wise, in her condition?"

"Why Kristina? You mean to tell me she's you-know-what again? But she didn't tell me!"

"She didn't tell me either, but she usually _is_. Or will be by July, anyway."

"Well, so what? So it's down to Erik and Viktor, is it?"

"What, sending Viktor without his wife to meet a very pretty young queen?" Hans raised his eyebrows. "Will that not cause scandal?"

"Not really, why should it? There's never been any real scandal in Viktor, he's very happily married."

"Oh, well, I mean, if you're sure; then I shall feel free to talk about the approaches you were making to King Agdar about Viktor, before you decided that Kristina wasn't too far beneath him after all. After all, it's all been for the best."

"What? Where did you find out about that from that from?"

"It's just that the way Viktor's marriage has so captured the public imagination, and how much, goodness knows, everyone does _adore_ Kristina, it's really quite a surprise to find out that you were making serious attempts to make Viktor a different marriage, might have done if Agdar hadn't so suddenly died..."

"Now- look, there was nothing improper!"

"Oh good. Then when he meets Queen Elsa any leak about that would cause no hard feelings in either country."

"Hans, you're threatening me!"

Hans grinned widely.

"No, brother, I'm _helping_ you."

"So you're suggesting you and Erik. I don't know, I really don't. I mean, twelfth and thirteenth princes? To send a _thirteenth_ prince under the circumstances would be something of a joke."

"Actually, I'd be more concerned about Erik."

"What?"

"You see- I think we'd better be clear about this- I assume you realise the implications for Queen Elsa having _not_ expressed any intentions in terms of taking a consort, one way or another?- and at the age of twenty-one, too; no relative in any position to exert any real influence over her decision..."

"Ah. Well, that happy prospect did cross my mind, yes. And you've got to admit, Erik could be the man. Good-looking. Likeable. _Solvent_. Good military record. Stable. _Normal_. Regarded by everyone as _sound_. And women have done odd things before at the sight of those legs... Still, it's only an idle speculation. The continent has plenty of princes, and Queen Elsa doesn't seem eager to make a match. Enough to make you wonder whether she really is dying."

"You'd think that might make it more urgent; it's so uncertain, with consumptives; if she's not actually bed-ridden, you'd think it would be urgent for her to have a child, while it might still survive to be an heir for her."

"What, another minority?"

"Secure enough, with the Prince Consort as Regent- if he's competent, of course."

"If he is, I mean you'd need a man of exceptional qualities. A _de facto_ King, in fact."

"If there was a child."

"With a Westergard?" Hans made a dismissive gesture. "Of _course_ there'd be a child, if she can carry on breathing for about eight months."

"Well… that happy prospect did cross my mind, yes."

"With Erik?"

"Well, he could be the man."

"You see, Magnus, I was wondering about that. You see... well- I say, Lene, are you still listening?"

"She doesn't have a terrific amount of choice, Hans."

Lene put her plate down, and blinked her long lashes at them.

"Am I going to be shocked?"

"What, after ten- well, never mind. Would you like to go and play the piano for a while?"

"What, now? Would you like that?"

"I'd love it, Lene. Go on- good sister, off you go-"

"And what was that all about?" Magnus said, when the back of his wife's gown has ghosted away in a drift of angelic muslin like last night's dream.

"I don't think I could have her listening. It's about security."

"What do you mean, security?"

"Secrets."

"Yes, I know what 'security' means. But what about it?"

"Well… this is a little difficult, Magnus."

"Is it? I haven't heard you admit that anything was difficult for years."

"I did contemplate saying that I had this friend who had discovered this… terribly significant thing."

"Wouldn't have convinced for a moment, Hans. You haven't got any friends."

Hans didn't laugh.

"Well, in any case, I felt I had no alternative but to bring this to you."

"That bad, eh?"

"There are certain items of confidential information, which, while in theory they are of no importance, nevertheless have implications that were they to be presented in a less than generous manner to an already prejudiced mind, might be a source of embarrassment and possibly hazard, were they to impinge on the considerations a position of more than usual sensitivity."

"What? Where did you get all that from?"

"Alright, you got me. It was a verbatim quote from the Lord Chamberlain when he gave me… this."

As the _Träumereri_ started to flow through from the next room, Hans pulled a bundle of papers out of his jacket. When he put it down on the table, the teapot rattled.

"He gave it to you? Why? What is it?"

"I'm not allowed to know."

"Why?"

"Security."

"So you don't know what it is?"

"Well… of course technically nobody can show you any of it, but… wait a minute, here's the relevant parts…" He looked up and seemed astonished, for some reason, to notice that Magnus had his reading-glasses on. "Summery of the undercover police reports… interview with Erik's valet, interview with the driver… letter from Frau Landseer… and of course the Chamberlain's confidential memo…"

Magnus skimmed over them. Read them again more closely. Then turned them over.

"…the dirty little… you wouldn't have thought he'd had the time, would you? Between the army and public life; I mean to look at him you wouldn't think he went in for…"

"Well, you know he was always highly energetic, it obviously applies to everything he does."

"Of course all of this seems to be some time ago, doesn't it, and none of it seems very conclusive."

"_I don't know, I haven't read it_."

"Oh, haven't you?"

"But in the light of the two Russian ones, and the two Americans, not to mention the shady lady from Corona- and it's thought that she was just a cover anyway…"

"A cover? But- what, what, what for? Goodness, if all of these ladies were just _covers_, what on earth were his real… requirements?"

"I really couldn't tell you."

"_Coo!_" Magnus folded over the papers; it was that or keep staring at them.

"So you'll understand that if all this comes out in Arendelle, in the context of a suit to the Queen…"

"What you're saying is, it's unthinkable? Where did you _get _all this? You're not telling me that the Chamberlain willingly handed it all over to _you_?"

"Well, let's just say it's the result of asking _him_ the right kind of _questions_. Questions that evidently you didn't think to ask. We don't want to be caught with our breeches down."

"Like Erik?"

Hans still didn't laugh.

"Quite so."

"So._ Oh very well, _I'll keep Erik out of it. So I'm stuck without an obvious candidate, aren't I?"

"Are you, though? Is there really nobody you could trust? Nobody with no obvious vices? Nobody with no previous connections? Who could be discreet about old skeletons in the cupboard? Nobody who's flexible? Who'd know how a young woman needs to be guided? Nobody who _wasn't busy with anything important?_"

There was nothing that changed in the light of the room. No particular reason why it could have reflected brightly in Hans' eyes at that particular moment.

"You don't mean… _you_?"

"_Me_?" Hans settled back languorously in his chair. "Oh, I'm of an age where I'm enjoying my freedom far too much to want to be _married_."

"You _do _mean you!"

Hans turned away, and finished Lene's tea, then pulled a face.

"Gah. Vile as I remembered. I don't know what these women see in it, do you? Can't be good for them."

"You haven't got a chance, Hans. You only want this because you thought your brother might get it, that's why, isn't it, you covetous little parasite? You don't change, do you? Henrick, Viktor, Erik, they all grew up into, into, _princes_, Hans, in every sense; loved at home and abroad even by people who don't like the Islands very much- heroes, ideal husbands, loving fathers, selfless pillars of society, and you? Nana Mayer got you down twenty years ago: _die __Eifers__ü__chstige_. Nothing else."

"Of course, I would have to have your agreement, if I were to make an approach to Agdar's daughter…"

"Hah! If you can carry that off without her running out of the room to take an immediate bath, she can have you."

"That's all I needed to know. I'll leave you the papers. I shouldn't be looking at them."

Magnus surveyed him getting up from the chair.

"I suppose," he said grudgingly, "your legs do just as well."

"Well, I'll… I'll bear that in mind. Er, thank you."

Lene drifted back into the room.

"What will his legs do for, dear?"

"Hans wants to get married, darling. To Queen Elsa. If she lets him come within a mile of her."

"Oh! Well, I'm sure she's still awfully pretty. And I daresay her little sister's a nice girl too."

Hans stopped with his hand on the door.

"A sister? There's a little sister?"

"Well, yes. There was a dear little baby, don't you remember, Magnus? And it must have been a girl, of course. Little Elsa had her on her lap, and they were playing with some kind of toy that dropped, oh, it looked like feathers everywhere…"

"A sister…" Hans drummed his fingers on the door-handle. "Magnus, if it were the sister…"

"If it were any woman you weren't actually paying for, I'd be delighted," Magnus said. He thought of something, and, oh, what the hell? said it- "when did you last actually touch a woman, anyway?"

He saw the lad's nostrils flare.

"In case you hadn't noticed, brother, we're not in a barracks. I'll maintain proper conduct in front of your wife." He slammed the door behind him.

"That'll be a new trick if he can do it," Magnus remarked. "What do you think, Lene? Would you have him?"

"I'm married to you, dear."

"Hypothetically, Lene. Do you think anyone would want him for a husband?"

Lene cocked her head.

"I don't know. I always thought Hans would make pretty babies." She sighed. "If only there was someone out there who _loved_ him."

"Yes, that's always the problem, isn't it? Too late now, of course. Far too late."


End file.
